


the (slightly early and fellowship-less) quest to mordor

by kryze



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo, Banishment, Bilbo Baggins Destroys the One Ring, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Mordor, bilbo goes to mordor, elrond's badass healing skills, well it's not really angsty so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryze/pseuds/kryze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't really surprise Bilbo Baggins that he's still banished from Erebor-reclaimed on the pain of death, even after the battle.</p><p>...but oh, did he mention that he happened to stumble across a shiny golden ring? No? Well, he went gallivanting off to Mordor for the obvious reason, though of course, not without that blasted Elf. (spoiler alert: it's Elrond!)</p><p>And upon their (exhausted, sweaty, Ring-less) return to Rivendell, do guess who's waiting for them...</p><p>[heavily implied and almost certainly endgame bagginshield]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins honest to the Green Lady was having a not-good day and would've been completely willing to take on the Dark Lord Sauron himself if maybe he could get out of climbing up the _thrice-damned slopes of Mount-freaking-Doom!_

…so perhaps it was more than a not-good day and was more of a fruitcaking Valar-cursed one. The only saving grace of Bilbo's irritating journey was the Elf-Lord of Rivendell, who'd graciously accompanied the Hobbit on his Quest.

Now if only everything in Mordor could be as wonderful and peaceful as the Shire and he could somehow adopt the always-calm temperament of Lord Elrond, then Bilbo Baggins' day would probably be increasing exponentially in niceness and maybe he wouldn't be cursing out every-damned-thing on this side of Middle Earth.

(Except maybe Elrond.)

(Let it be noted though, that said Elrond was most certainly amused here.)

(But first, we need to backtrack to exactly  _how_ Bilbo Baggins, peaceful Hobbit of the Kindly West came to be trekking across  _Mordor_ , of all places.)

 

* * *

 

And so it began a little something like this:

The Battle of the Five Armies, as it was now being referred to, had ended…

…and Bilbo Baggins was still banished.

The Dwarves were tending to their wounded, three of which happened to be Thorin son of Thráin, the barely-breathing King Under the Mountain; Fíli son of Dís, the almost-coma-ridden Crown Prince Under the Mountain and Kíli son of Dís, the extremely-drugged-up  _other_ Prince Under the Mountain. In other words, the only three Dwarves that were even (somewhat) authorised to rescind Thorin's order…

...were currently completely unable to rescind Thorin's order.

It was really Bilbo's lucky day.

And so, he fled. (Like the  _miserable rat_ that he was.)

(Bilbo Baggins had always been prepared to face his fate head-on before.)

Gandalf had luckily caught up to him just as he was about to reach Esgaroth and had found out about the Ring when he'd questioned Bilbo about just exactly  _how_  he could walk completely unseen through the quarreling armies to get to Ravenhill.

The Grey Wizard had been astonished at the reaction that he'd received upon sharing his concerns about the true nature of that unassuming golden band; Bilbo, the unpredictable creature that he was, had immediately tried to hand the Ring off to Gandalf, babbling something about  _needing_  to be rid of it, interspaced with some swearing that he didn't know anything about it when he used it and even more babble about should-have-knowing from that grotesque creature in that dank cave when it was going even madder with the loss of the Ring and subsequently cursing out Bagginses for the rest of his days.

Gandalf though, stalwart in his faith to the Light, immediately refused the Ring for fear of quick corruption through its false power, and worse; what would be the End of Olórin the Maia and the transformation into something certainly much worse.

(For once again, Hobbits had surprised the weary Istar with their unbelievably strong, loving, and perhaps most importantly - resilient souls.)

They'd both agreed quite quickly that the Ring needed to be taken up to Mount Doom as soon as they could possibly take it, especially since the growing numbers of Orcs right under their noses and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur were sure signs that evil was once again finding a foothold in Middle Earth.

 

* * *

 

And so the story went.

Bilbo Baggins of the Shire would be accompanied to the Dark Land of Mordor by Lord Elrond Peredhil of Imladris, one of the only beings strong enough to resist the call of the Ring and also one of the only beings alive to have made the journey up Mount Doom. They trekked for months in the wild; the Hobbit's second Quest being no easier than his first, despite being with an Elf-Lord (who actually _knew_  the path; and _yes_  that was directed at you, Thorin Oakenshield!) and also already being battle-and-travel-hardened from the long crusade for Erebor.

Ever since the duo had entered Mordor, the air had gotten increasingly more foul and even the usually-unperturbed Elf was showing signs of exhaustion and sickness. The feeling of evil was overwhelming and it took all of Elrond's control not to be affected by the Deciever's Ring. The Hobbit was astonishing; having the strength of will to carry it for so long and even still be open to the idea of giving the greatest Ring of Power up.

(And if what the Grey Wizard claimed was true, the Hobbit had already willingly given the Ring away, even if it had been handed straight back to him.)

Reaching the top of Mount Doom was no doubt difficult, even though it was devoid of strong forces and regular patrols. The very air itself seemed to want to suffocate the two Trespassers and the ground was getting more untrustworthy the closer they got to the heart of Mount Doom, where Bilbo would cast the Ring into, to be destroyed and never recovered for all of time.

Finally ( _finally_!) they'd reached the peak of the giant volcano and Elrond gave his dear hobbit companion a meaningful look. It was time for him to do what he came to this Valar-forsaken place to do.

Bilbo took a steadying breath, fishing the golden band from his waistcoat pocket and undoing the chain that ensured that it would be kept there, no matter what would befall him on the way to the Dark Land.

He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the whispers for the first time since the Grey Wizard, the Lord of the Last Homely House and the Lady of the Golden Wood banded together to teach him, a lowly Hobbit, how to fully close his mind from outside influnce and thus block out the evil whisperings of the Ring, which was a practice reserved only for the highest of Lords and Ladies in Arda.

The stupid thing now told him that it could grant him unknowable power, that it could give him an army of creatures with great strength… that it could give him vengeance against the Dwarves that had so wronged him.

And that's when Bilbo, disgusted that the thought would even enter his mind, whether it was of his own notion or not, automatically released the Ring (the blasted thing falling conveniently into the fires of Mount Doom - Bilbo would write it a polite thank-you note later, as Hobbits do) and took an instinctual step away, as though he wanted to get as far away from it as possible (which he did).

But to even think of taking his own supposedly-righteous revenge against the Company?! How low did Sauron think he was?! So low as to want to wage war against his  _friends_ for something that Thorin Oakenshield did whilst in the throes of  _madness_?

(Um please? Hobbits are  _not_ anything like that, thank-you-very-much you idiot cheesemonger of a Dark Lord!)

It was blasphemy of the highest order! Bilbo had given those Dwarves food and drink from his table (albeit unwillingly, but still, it counted), had signed a legally binding contract and had been saved by just about each and every one of those Dwarves sometime during the Quest (and had probably saved the hides of the Company a fair few times in return).

Any Hobbit that would turn on his chosen family and trusted friends like that was no Hobbit at all; they would be labeled as Outsiders, Evil-Doers- as breeds of truly vile specimen that they were if he was back in the Shire!

 

* * *

 

And so, in the middle of the deep thoughts of Elrond's dear Hobbit friend (he chose to think them rather inconveniently when they were at the very heart of Orodruin), after the truly remarkable being had relinquished the One Ring, did the Elf-Lord realise that the stupid volcano was about to erupt.

(Couldn't it have waited until they were safely out of this cursed land?)

(Either way, well this isn't very good for our heroes, is it?)

(Luckily Gandalf had one of his few-and-far-in-between moments of clarity and wisdom, and had called upon the Great Eagles to spirit away the Ringbearer and his Companion to safety after their Quest was complete.)

(Phew.)

 

* * *

 

Elrond shared his rather foreboding thoughts about their situation with Bilbo and both of them shared a fearful churning in their stomachs. Even the Great Elven Race feared death; perhaps even more than the other Races of Middle-Earth, for the sole reason that they knew that they were immortal, and they quite well knew that if one lived their life in a way that would provide them protection, wisdom and strength of the body and mind - then there was barely any chance of having to face death themselves.

And Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris, was literally face-to-face with what Bilbo liked to call his Imminent End. (But what a way to go! - death by volcano eruption post-destruction of the most evil object that may have graced their land…)

(Still rather undesirable when one thought on it though.)

(Death as a whole was rather undesirable.)

So imagine his surprise when he was plucked from the edge of Orodruin and dropped onto the back of… was this one of the Eagles of Manwë?

(And an undeterminable amount of time later, by the Valar, he discovered from Bilbo Baggins that  _yes_ , that was a rescue from the Great Eagles and  _no_ , his ridiculously sharp Elf-eyes were  _not_ deceiving him.)

 

* * *

 

But imagine both their surprise when, upon their exhausted, sweaty, sooty (and most importantly, Ring-less) arrival, there were a whopping  _thirteen_ surprisingly less sweaty and sooty Dwarves that were actually, truly, willingly staying in Imladris and probably awaiting their exhausted, sweaty, sooty and Ring-less arrival, if Elrond had to make a guess.

This was leaps and bounds better than the rumoured relations between Elves and Dwarves at the already-infamous Battle of the Five Armies, as it was now dubbed.

(Elrond would have to remember to rub it Thranduil's face.)

(Millennia-old creatures had to have fun  _somehow_ , right?)

(Right.)

 

* * *

 

Back to the story though: " _Bilbo!_ " came the cry of thirteen overemotional Dwarrow that were just pulling themselves out of the deep, dark, dank hole of Hobbit withdrawal (more specifically, Bilbo-cuddly-burglar-theirs-adorable-comeliveinEreborwithus-Baggins withdrawal).

Elrond could _totally_  understand that though; the Hobbit really did grow on you.

"Thought we lost you, laddie!"

"We're glad you're back, Master Boggins!"

"Can't believe you went off without telling us, and with an  _E_ _lf_  no less!"

"Aye lad, should've told us so we could've protected you."

"Go wash up, I have tea ready and you better drink it Bilbo Baggins!"

"Carrying the  _One Ring_ of  _Sauron_  to  _Mordor_?! Bilbo Baggins, of all the idiotic things!"

"You could've been  _killed_ , Master Burglar! Think it through next time!"

"Stubborn Hobbits!"

"Erm right yes, I'll just be in the bathing rooms right now… kind of exhausted here…"

" _And come back here straight after, you sprog! Your wounds need looking at!_ "

Bilbo Baggins, Barrel-rider, Dragon-riddler and now Ringbearer-and-destroyer sighed heavily. He was  _not_ prepared for that Dwarven onslaught that greeted him the moment that the Great Eagles dropped them off at the Last Homely House.

At least he could be thankful that they weren't out for his blood or something of the like.

And even Thorin was there, probably glaring as-per-usual. (That had to be a good sign, right?)

(…right.)

 

* * *

 

Bilbo Baggins sighed again.

(Why, oh why did he have to pretty much fall in love with a Dwarf that was pretty much destined to hate him?)

(Confusticate and bebother that stupid Arkenstone! Blast that stupid dragon-cursed gold… and that pesky Ring.)

He promptly passed out on his way to the baths.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Thorin Oakenshield was absolutely, positively guilt-ridden. It was  _he_  who had driven the Hobbit out of the makeshift camps before anyone had the chance to track him down and properly apologise, it was  _he_  who had almost thrown his  _ghivashel_ from the thrice-damned battlements in a fit of dragon-sickness and it was  _he_  who hadn't apologised for his shameful actions in time.

And now, Bilbo Baggins (his love, his heart, his One) was dead on his adorable, furry Hobbit feet from travelling to  _Mordor_.

Thorin should've been there to protect him, not some halfwit Elf (even if said Elf did have a rather good sense of hospitality when Thorin and Company made their way - ehm, more like  _crashed_ their way - through his realm) and certainly not without a reasonably-sized Dwarvish army at their heels.

After the battle, Fíli and Kíli - his own nephews! - had given him the cold shoulder for days on end when they finally awoke from their exhausted slumbers as penance for what he'd done to their Burglar.

(Not that he deserved any better.)

Only when they found out that Bilbo was nowhere to be found, even with frantic search parties going out almost every day for him, methodically making their ways through the extensive battlefield; did Fíli and Kíli finally address their uncle once again (albeit grudgingly and sparingly as they could manage).

It was another five grueling, miserable months before the Company finally got wind of their fourteenth member though.

And guess who (Tharkûn) informed them of Bilbo Baggins' current situation, a predicament which would make the stomach of even the mightiest Dwarrow turn into a twisted knot…

…their Hobbit (their ever-polite, soft, cuddly, small Hobbit with a spine of mithril and a heart of pure gold) was going to  _Mordor_  to destroy the  _One Ring_.

 _Their_ little Bilbo Baggins was on what was probably the most important Quest of the Age.

(Plus all of the other Ages combined; and if there was one thing Thorin Oakenshield was one hundred percent sure about, it would be that there would certainly be songs and legends about the bravery of this extraordinary Hobbit for many centuries to come for both riddling the parasite of Erebor and for the destruction of the One Ring...

...and maybe for being the most kind, benevolent, beloved Consort that Erebor would ever see, if its King played his cards right?)

But at that particular moment, thirteen overprotective, fretting Dwarrow were terrified out of their minds at the state that this wonderful, bright creature might return in.

Thorin… well, Thorin really didn't want to find out.

(But oh, he did!)

(He couldn't help but imagine and promptly get sick at the thought of Bilbo Baggins returning to them haunted and empty because of all the things he went through, and did  _absolutely nothing_ to deserve!)

It was their duty though; to make haste to that blasted Elf-land to await the arrival of their lucky _-_ last member, whether his perilous journey took him another two months or another two decades - they would wait. And so there were quick arrangements to leave Erebor in the care of Dís and take off to Rivendell as fast as they possibly could.

What else could they possibly  _think_  to do with news like that?

 

* * *

 

" _Bilbo!_ " An Elf's cry came from the direction of the corridor that the poor Hobbit had just gone down.

Elrond, despite his obvious exhaustion and grime-covered figure, immediately rushed as fast as his lengthy legs allowed him to his steward's exclamation.

The Company didn't even have to exchange glances for a plan of action; they just ran after the Elf (and his blasted long legs!) in the direction of their Burglar.

He was unconscious on the ground, probably from the sheer fatigue plaguing him and the mental toll that the Ring had on him for almost a year.

Lindir had picked him up as soon as he'd lain eyes on the Halfling's prone form and quickly handed him off to his Lord for healing.

Elrond gave him to his daughter, the Evenstar, for a preliminary examination as he quickly washed up and renewed his energy as much as possible before healing his dear  _mellon_.

His daughter brought troubling news; the Hobbit was heavily malnourished and probably had been for over a year's time and his psyche was far more affected by the Ring than he let on. One of the first things that Arwen had done was brush his mind (left wide open in the safety of Imladris) in search of any afflictions that may have caused accelerated weariness, and discovered that his thoughts were tormented by insecurities and mental scars ripped right open by the cruel whisperings of the Deceiver's Ring.

Elrond cursed under his breath and turned back to his daughter. " _Hannon le, hên._ " He smiled gently at her and made his way over to the Healing Halls.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was weightless and floating around in his own mind.

Although all he could see was a never-ending darkness, somehow it felt comforting and he didn't want to leave something so peaceful just yet.

(If it could postpone the surely-uncomfortable reunion with the Company, then Bilbo would welcome this cool, peaceful darkness with open arms.)

He could vaguely feel his lead-like limbs and thought it wouldn't be within his energy reserves to even attempt moving them. His mind entertained itself with a few cleverly thought out riddles from some relatives back in the Shire that he hadn't quite puzzled out yet. It was getting pretty hard though, with his thoughts getting fuzzier by the second and his insides feeling lethargic.

Bilbo Baggins faded into the darkness once more, unaware of his surroundings and oblivious to the panic he'd caused by no longer responding to any stimuli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just for some more translation ease)
> 
> mellon - friend  
> hannon le, hên - thank you, child


	2. Chapter 2

"Quick! His heartrate is lowering!" Elrond ordered in his lordly-do-as-I-say voice, already working like a mad-Elf on opening the blank space of Bilbo's consciousness back up to heal the cracks in it.

The Elf-Lord of Imladris, known throughout Middle Earth for his healing abilities, wasn't sure that he'd be able to mend the chaotic rifts in the mind of this Child of the Kindly West in time for him to be sane for the rest of his life.

(But he  _had_ to; it was the least that Eru's Firstborn owed this wonderful creation of Yavanna for saving this Age and the next and the next from Sauron's destruction.)

(All that Elrond could do at this point was pray; if Eru had  _any_  sympathy whatsoever for his children, then he  _would_  save Bilbo Baggins from his own Imminent End.)

 

* * *

 

Thorin and Company (sans Óin) had been thrown out of the Healing Halls early on and were anxiously awaiting news on their Hobbit. Every one of them was ashamed to have left their Burglar alone in his own Quest and for not searching hard and far enough to find him. Apologies (extensive ones) were to be made and every Dwarrow knew that it would be too good a fate for them to have Bilbo Baggins forgive them for their blunders.

(But they could hope, right?)

(…)

 

* * *

 

It was four hours before any of the overstrung Dwarrow received news of their Hobbit friend.

"He'll recover," an exhausted Elf announced on his way out of the Healing Halls, "and no visitors are allowed until he awakens. Lady Arwen will be monitoring Master Baggins until Lord Elrond deems otherwise."

There was an audible sigh of relief from the Company as their backs gave out; no longer feeling the need to run on pure adrenalin to stay awake any longer.

"Get some sleep, lad." Dwalin murmured to an adorably sleepy Ori as he passed him by to get to his own room, unaware of the younger Dwarrow's blush as he strode away.

 

* * *

 

Thorin, unlike the rest of his kinsmen, chose to stay outside the Halls until Bilbo came to. His sullen presence was becoming a regular thing, whether it be awake or asleep. His Dwarves would rotate out to keep an eye on him, bring him food and other such things during his vigil.

And one day, three days after the Hobbit was declared in the clear...

"He's awake!" came the joyful cry from the secluded room. Not even two minutes later, Elrond himself was rushing in to evaluate Bilbo's health upon his waking and emerged with a smile on his face (smiles are always a good sign, no?), immediately heading over towards the Dwarf King. "I presume you'd like to know that he will accept visitors?"

Thorin didn't even need to grace the question with an answer.

 

* * *

 

The door to Bilbo's room was tentatively nudged open a crack.

"Well come on, don't be shy!" the Hobbit encouraged gently from his spot on the bed, unable to move anywhere else as per the silly Elf's orders.

A head of braids and salt-and-peppered hair popped in and the worried blue eyes of the King of Dwarves made their appearance. Upon seeing Bilbo's serene smile, he courageously stepped the rest of the way in, and at the bedridden Hobbit's urging, took a seat at his side.

"Thorin," Bilbo stated his name without any titles, malice or bitterness (which said Thorin took as a Very Good Sign).

"Master Baggins," was the apprehensive reply, "I know that I have wronged yo-"

The remorseful King was cut off by his Burglar's characteristic hand-waving and tsk-ing. "There's no need for that, you silly Dwarf! You need not ask for forgiveness, as I've already given it to you a very long time ago." The admonishment was accompanied by a good-natured glare and Thorin was appropriately chastised. "And what's with this 'Master Baggins' business?! We have been on an extremely long journey to your reclaimed kingdom together, not to mention the  _dragon_! I do think you've earned the right to address me as 'Bilbo',  _Master Oakenshield_."

Thorin chuckled at the Hobbit's sass, conceding his (very valid) point with a gracious nod. "Your forgiveness is a boon to me,  _Bilbo_ ," he made it a point to call Bilbo by his given name, earning himself a satisfied nod from the Hobbit himself, "but I still feel the need to right the wrongs that I have so egregiously committed against you, my friend."

He got an unusually serious look from leaf-green irises from that. "Well Thorin, I don't know if you remember, but I've also done you a great deal of wrong. I shouldn't have traded the Arkenstone-" Bilbo eliminated the Dwarf's protests with a commanding wave of his hand, "-it is the heirloom of your family and represents your right to rule. It's  _yours_ , it was not my place to decide what to do with it and most definitely not something to trade. If you can't forgive me for that, then that's completely fine; just know that I would part with you in friendship, not strife."

"Your actions were in the best interest of everyone, Bilbo, including us. Even if we couldn't see it at the time, we-  _I_ can see it now and you, of all people, need not ask forgiveness."

(If Bilbo said he wasn't tearing up yet, he'd be a lying cabbage of a Baggins.)

(And if Thorin tried to claim the same thing, then he too would be a lying cabbage of a... Dwarrow.)

"But even so," the Dwarf continued kindly, "if you believe you need my forgiveness, Bilbo Baggins, then you have it freely. I would not wish to part with you in strife, but I would wish more not to part with you at all."

 

* * *

 

"What's taking the lad so long?!" Dwalin growled irritably, pacing outside of Bilbo's Healing Room.

"Mahal if I know," Bofur replied miserably, tugging at the ear flaps on his hat anxiously.

"Oh no, you think he's killed him?" Ori bemoaned. "Well, it is awfully quiet in there..." His thief of a brother noted, stroking the middle prong of his beard thoughtfully. Ori let out a horrified squeak in reply.

"Don't be an idiot!" Dwalin rolled his eyes amusedly at the young scribe, who blushed once more at being addressed by the Captain of the Guard. Dori rolled his eyes at the (rather one-sided) exchange and clacked his knitting needles annoyingly, already planning out the extensive shovel talk to Dwalin if he ever noticed Ori's massive, perhaps-not-unrequited infatuation.

Making eye contact with his second youngest brother from down the table and exchanging a determined nod, Dori knew that Dwalin, son of Fundin wouldn't have an easy time winning over their approval for their littlest brother's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo’s mind was infected by the darkness of the Ring, especially since he refused to yield to it’s Power. It battered against his defenses when he was sleeping and more susceptible to it’s disease.

_…they could never bring themselves to love someone like you, you traitor! You betrayer! You thief! It would be better for you to accept that they’ll never come for you, better to take your revenge now, whilst they still think you’re weak… that you’re dead or worse - escaped. The only reason that they’d be chasing after you is to give you what you deserve…_

_Liar, pilferer, poacher, turncoat… liar, liar, silver-tongued liar…_

He thrashed about in his head to escape the _voices_ , the horrible, wicked _voices_. Bilbo was well aware that they were the of the Ring’s creation, but he also knew that all it did was feed on doubts and vulnerabilities that were already there and festering.

The dwarves were here, he knew; and with good or bad intentions towards him, he had no idea. Though with his current mental state, he also knew that there would be no way that he’d be able to even look Thorin Oakenshield in the face without having a fully-fledged panic attack or something of the like.

Unluckily though, Bilbo’s body decided that it was time for his spirit to resurface from the depths of the residual darkness that resided within his mind and involuntarily, his eyes flashed open with his lungs taking in a greedy gasp of air. He didn’t have enough energy to expend so that he could dramatically bolt upright in his bed, and settled for an uncomfortable jerk of weakened muscles.

A passing elf noticed the noises coming from the Hobbit’s room (a loud breath in and a light rattle of the bedframe, probably from a sudden movement on top of it) and immediately dashed out of the Healing Halls to inform his Lord Elrond.

 

* * *

 

“Finally!” The Elf-Lord breathed in relief, sprinting off in the direction of his now-conscious friend.

 

* * *

 

Well, he managed to successfully avoid that panic attack upon seeing the face of one Thorin Oakenshield and even got his forgiveness and reassurance that he'd be happy to have Bilbo as his friend once more.

Points to the Hobbit. 

 

* * *

 

Dori and Balin, meanwhile, were arguing fiercely about their little brothers' courtship terms whilst Nori was backing Dori up (with his good friend, Knife), and Ori and Dwalin were busy eating eachother's faces in an unspecified shadowed alcove. 

(If it was one thing that Dwalin had to commend the elves for, it would  _definitely_ be their shadowed alcoves, so ta for all the great make-out spots.)

"No! It was he who proposed the courtship, so we demand  _seventy_ gold pieces!"

"You're already rich beyond imagining, you green-tea-addled idiot! Thirty!"

"Fifty and a crate of  _chamomile_!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Now, I propose a courtship length of a decade."

"A  _decade_!? Ori's barely of age! Make it two!" _  
_

(Nori sighed.)

(He didn't fail to note that the furious knife-twirling was slowly-but-surely unnerving Balin. Maybe sitting here on his arse wasn't such a bad idea after all...)

 

* * *

  

Ever since Bilbo and Thorin had smoothed things out, there was a huge round of apologies from just about  _everyone_ else. Their King had the sense to keep well away from the poor Hobbit's Healing Room for the next few days, since he had it on good authority that the Company would be storming it for as many hours as they could wring from Elrond. 

Thorin's respect for the Elf went up a signifiant few notches since then. He knew quite well that his Company was a rather strong-willed group and anyone who could hold them at bay even for a few hours deserved, at the very least, his regard.

(It was also pretty hilarious how run ragged the poor pointy-eared sod was, but the King of Dwarves  _did_ actually have enough diplomacy stored up within himself not to mention it.)

(He and Dwalin laughed together over supper, instead.)

(Balin sighed; the lad didn't have nearly as much grace as he thought he did. There was a reason that the position of Advisor to the King was created, after all. It certainly wasn't in vain.)

 

* * *

 

Getting his strength and mobility back took a lot less time than Bilbo expected. A month and a half of vigorous physical therapy proved more than enough to have him feeling normal again, if not a bit happier than he was before.

(Bilbo had also caused quite a few almost-heart attacks between the Company and the Elves with his stubborn insistence that he was completely alright to keep going. _All the time_. Even well into exhaustion.) 

(Okay, so maybe he took it a little fast, sue him! Either way, it all paid off in the end with no ill side effects,  _Elrond_!)

And then it was all up to him to make a life-changing decision- "Do you want to come back to Erebor with us, Bilbo?"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (just for some more translation ease)
> 
> mellon - friend  
> hannon le, hên - thank you, child


End file.
